It's Personal
by SLOW INCINERATION
Summary: Boba Fett is deceived by a Hutt and captured, only to be rescued. It turns out that his rescuers are bounty hunters and they want to hand him over to the New Republic, and, ultimately, Luke Skywalker. What if the Jedi's family hadn't been killed by clones, but Boba Fett? Now the Jedi embarks on a quest for revenge, and Fett is being hunted by two factions that he once served.


_(A/N: OK, guys, a new story! If you like it, there may be a prequel, but that's up to you guys! Just a few things, I **know** Boba Fett would've been **much** older, but I lowered his age... he might've been frozen in carbonite, or just push the time frames closer, whatever. Just take your pick as to why his age is less than it should've been. Hope you enjoy, and PLEASE REVIEW!)_

 **Chapter 1: A Trap**

Boba Fett knew something was wrong as he stood before Jubbu the Hutt, a close cousin to Jabba, who was currently deceased thanks to the Jetii Luke Skywalker, the smuggler Han Solo and the senator Leia Organa.

He had not objected in any way to Jubbu succeeding Jabba, as long as it payed well.

But now, after a rather frustrating hunt, and as he stood before the slug-like creature, he heard a small warning bell ringing in the back of his mind.

Fett surveyed the room carefully without turning his head, thanks to the 360 degree view within his helmet. He used that to his advantage now.

The patrons were sitting, but Fett could read several stiff backs, and sense the tension in the air, feel the air of ill will that had befallen the room moments after he had appeared. Something wasn't right. He knew that, for sure.

Even with his back turned, Fett had seen the few dozen, in pairs or groups, of bounty hunters stand and aim at his back, blasters clicking.

Fett turned his head with a slow, deliberate turn, taking in his attackers. They were confident in their group, and most were young and inexperienced, an attribute that would make them dangerous and too likely to pull the trigger.

"Jubbu." Fett spoke, turning back to the large hutt who had a wolfish grin on his face, eyes alight with delight. "I do what I wish to do in my kingdom, Fett." He said, swishing his slimy tail joyfully.

Boba Fett suddenly pulled a pistol, twirling it around before having it aimed directly at the slug, too fast for the other bounty hunters to react against this new threat.

"Shoot me." Fett spoke in his synthesized voice with his trademark shortness as he motioned to the fat creature with the pistol. "He dies."

"No! No!" Jubbu whimpered, turning his large, bulbous eyes onto the others. "Protect me!" He ordered, the bounty hunters moving forward slowly.

Fett watched them approach. He couldn't shoot the hutt without losing his bargaining power, but if it became his only option, he would willingly take it.

"Drop it, Fett!" One of the Mandalorian's attackers ordered, and he took note that this one was harder looking, even if his voice did waver slightly. Too slightly for anyone but the Mandalorian to hear it.

"Speak, Jubbu." Fett ordered, pistol still aimed at the vile creature's face. "I won't be patient forever." He hissed, watching the bulbous eyes widen.

Fett slowly began to ease pressure onto the trigger when something alerted him to danger. Looking up, he saw a female bounty hunter in free fall for his face, leaving him only moments to act. He pulled the trigger, the sound of a blaster bolt hitting the fat of the slug loud in his ears as he jumped out of the way of the female hunter.

"Shab." Fett muttered, rolling in behind a table as several dozen bolts hit the ground where he had stood moments before, and he noticed they had been stun bolts.

 _So Jubbu wanted me alive._ He thought to himself as he rained fire down upon the bounty hunters, killing and maiming the few that didn't move fast enough. _The question is... why?_

Fett used his flamethrower on the tables that his ambushers had hidden behind, watching with his cold black visor as many burned alive, a strange sense of satisfaction welling up in himself.

Quickly calculating what had occurred and what outcomes were possible, Fett realized that is was going to be extremely hard to escape from Jubbu's lair. If these bounty hunters were after him, then the slug was paying, and that meant that many more were coming... or many were waiting at his ship.

Fett was tough and clever, but he wasn't a stupid man either. He would either escape, or get caught. If the later was supposed to happen, he would try his best to make sure it was in death.

Looking around, Boba Fett knew that Jabba's palace, having been rebuilt, was moving, and consequently moving him away from the Slave III. The roar of an adolescent rancor split the air, and Fett rolled across the space to the trap door, allowing himself to fall, slowing it with his jet pack.

Fett landed before the young, newly transported predator, his visored face and body posture giving off the air of challenge or authority, causing the creature to shriek with rage as it ran toward him.

Dodging, the Mandalorian noticed that the younger bounty hunters were looking down in interest, while many other, older ones were gone, most likely making their way down the palace levels to wait for him near the ship.

Boba burned the rancor's large leg with his flame-thrower, distracting it long enough to dodge around it and escape out the back door, making his way down the halls for his ship.

The Slave III sat waiting in the distance, the latter of which frustrated him. They were moving fast.

Boba stopped running as the group came into sight. They stood in a semi circle in an attempt to trap him between the ones on the platform and the others that rounded the corner behind him.

"End of the line, Mandalorian." One, a Corellian, said. Boba noticed his voice trembled slightly. There was still that deeply ingrained fear for the warrior race, regardless of the large ratio of numbers.

Boba stood unmoving. He could either fight and escape, surrender or fight and die. Die right here, right now, become a legend in the mouths of the civilizations.

Boba pointed one pistol towards the group before him, the other to the group behind. He would fight and survive, or fight and die. Only fate and the souls of already deceased Mandalorian warriors could alter the outcome that seemed nearly inevitable.

The bounty hunters surrounding him all lifted their rifles and pistols, opening fire. Boba Fett spun around, under and over blaster bolts, firing his own at the larger group. Within moments, several were either dead or wounded.

Boba felt sweat break out on his forehead. Their movements were trained... rehearsed. Someone had told them to fire as a group, making it nearly impossible to dodge the heavy fire they now rained upon him. Someone wanted him... terribly.

Pain burned down the Mandalorian's leg and he realized that the shots were set to stun, not kill. That caused a core of cold wrap around his inside. Someone wanted him alive. And if he was taken alive by Jubbu, especially after shooting him, it would never end well... or maybe even never end.

Boba felt several blasts hit him now and he stumbled. As he was off balance, several more bolts struck his body, paralysing different sections of his body and effectively bringing him down.

The Mandalorian fought against the group of men that set upon him like hungry Anoobas.

"Get his boots!" One shouted.

Boba felt his weak limbs being held down by the group of hunters and another removed his boots, for reasons the Mandalorian was soon to discover.

Something cold was placed to the sole of his feet and he realized it was a knife as the blade cut into him.

Boba jerked, but clenched his teeth shut against the pain as the blade cut into the sensitive flesh.

The hunters cut the palm of his hands in several areas, and then the back of his knees.

The Mandalorian was dragged to his feet, unable to support his weight on the soles of his feet. A shiver went down his spine when he realized that, by cutting the palms of his hands and the soles of his feet, they somewhat crippled him. Walking and using his hands would be painful, effectively lowering his chances at escape.

Boba clenched his teeth. He was a Mandalorian. Nothing could cut down his chances of escape.


End file.
